


If This Is a Romcom

by Olive_the_Olive



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-30
Updated: 2016-05-30
Packaged: 2018-07-11 04:35:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,111
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7028857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Olive_the_Olive/pseuds/Olive_the_Olive
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is your first produced screenplay, your big break, your chance to show Hollywood that your shit is good.</p><p>The only person on the production that has any idea what they're doing is the costume designer.</p>
            </blockquote>





	If This Is a Romcom

You barge out of the green room – if you could call that dump anything but a waste block for blithering idiots to fondle their globes and get off on how amazing and artistic they are – in an absolute rage.

Your name is Karkat Vantas and you just finished yelling at the director currently ruining your screenplay, your life, your career, and the art of cinema itself. This is the first script of yours that any studio has actually agreed to produce, and after this nobody is going to want to work with you again – either because this movie is going to suck bulge or because everyone will hate you by the time it opens, and who are you kidding, at this rate it's going to be both.

You stumble half-blindly into what looks like a deserted hallway outside a studio that isn't in use today, and sit your ass on the floor, where it will remain for all eternity. You kind of want to fucking cry, but you don't, because you're too tough for that. Also because you're an adult. And a mutant with weird-colored tears. There are a lot of reasons. So mostly you just hold your head in your hands and reflect on how miserable your existence is and always has been, and how the studio clearly set out to sabotage you from the start.

“Are you alright?” says a voice above you. You jump and look up at the woman addressing you. She approached so silently it's almost creepy.

“Yeah I'm-” Your voice breaks weirdly. You hate it. “I'm fine. Just getting in some quality time with the floor.”

She nods. “Okay. I would not want to interrupt you. Also I hope I was not rude in asking. I do not know if you recognize me but I am the costume designer on this film. We were in the same production meeting two weeks ago.”

“No, I recognize you,” you say. “Kanaya Maryam, right?”

Maryam is an elegant troll around your own age, with high sweeping horns. She is tall, slightly imposing, and smartly dressed, just as she was at the meeting. By which you mean she was also sharply dressed at the meeting, not that she was dressed the same as today. You were under the impression then that she was a greenblood, but if she is, today's outfit – a white jacket over a dress made of a brightly patterned print – contains no overt hint of her caste. Maybe she doesn't like showing off her blood color, or you misinterpreted something that day. More likely, she's too fashion-minded to confine herself to a limited palette, and privately gets off to the caste system just as much as everyone else does. She's carrying a blue dress over one arm.

“Is that...?”

She follows your gaze and holds out the dress for you to see. “It is not finished. But it is Meriya's dress from the scene at the park.”

You've never given a shit about clothes, but the dress is light and airy and beautiful in the same way you imagined the female lead would be. It's like the cloth embodiment of the character you wrote. Either you're a genius or Maryam is. You swear reverently. 

“Is that a positive or negative reaction?” she asks you, deadpan. “I can't tell.”

“Positive! This is fucking incredible,” you breathe. “This is better than I could've imagined. At least someone here is trying to make this movie right.”

Her mouth twitches into a smile. “Thank you. I take it you are dissatisfied with someone else's work?”

“Yeah, it's no big deal, though. It's just this asshole director. Hardly matters at all!” you say sarcastically. “Actually, it's not just him, I fucking loathe both of the lead actors too. But it's mostly him.”

“Oh dear,” says Maryam. “What is your grievance with Mr. Strider?”

“He's ruining my fucking movie!”

“Ah,” says Maryam. “I know his vision can be... unique but that may be a bit of an exaggeration, don't you think?”

“'Unique'? If I didn't think it was beyond the limited function of his thinkpan I would think he's trying to mock the entire romantic comedy genre.”

“That sounds like him actually. If it is any consolation, whatever he is trying to do is probably not that extreme for him. I worked with him on the Complacency of the Learned adaptations. Those were surreal.”

“Holy shit, you worked on Complacency?” you ask, taken aback enough to be momentarily distracted from your tirade. CotL is a best-selling fantasy series and you are kind of fan. The movies didn't made any fucking sense, though. “Did you get to meet Rose Lalonde?”

Maryam flushes slightly. Definitely a greenblood. “Yes, I did. It was a very intimidating experience.”

“How the fuck did Strider get away with butchering Rose Lalonde's writing?” you ask in revulsion. 

“She quite likes the adaptations, actually,” says Maryam. “I am not sure why, as they have little connection with the plot of her books, but she says the overall artistic statement is congruent with her vision.”

“So she's insane, is what you're saying.”

Kanaya's mouth twists in a dissatisfied kind of way. “I hope not. I quite enjoyed meeting her and conversing with her but that does not actually score her any points in the likely sanity department unfortunately. I am often not the best judge of character.”

“You seem alright, though,” you tell her, hesitantly. You consider yourself a pretty good judge of character. You also generally hate everyone when you first meet them, but that's just because generally everyone you meet is an asshole. Many of them might later prove themselves to be endearing assholes, but that doesn't change the fact that they're assholes. “You seem to be actually competent at your job, despite having to work with insane people.”

Maryam looks amused or maybe pleased by this. “If the floor can bear to part with you, and you do not have any pressing meetings, you are welcome to come and see the other pieces I have been working on. I'd be happy to hear your feedback on my designs.”

You scramble to your feet. “I- yeah. I don't know shit about clothes,” you admit.

“Knowing shit about clothes is my job,” says Kanaya, leading the way to her sewing block. “But for that reason I cannot promise to directly apply all your advice. I just thought you might like to express your opinion. And I enjoy talking with writers.”

You follow, not daring to hope that just maybe this project is salvageable, and trying your hardest not to think about exactly how everything is going to go to hell.

**Author's Note:**

> I had the idea for this general AU about a year ago I think? Obviously the entirety of it is bigger than this one scene, but fuck writing anything long - this was the bit of it that I most wanted to write. Kankat is the pale OTP of my heart.
> 
> (If you're curious, the actors Karkat references that he can't stand are John and Vriska. They have entirely the wrong type of chemistry for the roles.)


End file.
